Heartstrings
by Feonyx
Summary: An unexpected wyvern attack to everyone's favourite greenclad archer lying awake at night, thinking about a Blade Lord with a bow and daring to hope that odds aren't everything in love.


**Heartstrings**

There's a big difference between a band of mercenaries and an army on the march, and I can tell you about it in detail. I know, you think Wil the Archer is going to give a lecture on warrior-encampment psychology and its atmospheric relations? Well, no. I'm not Canas. But I can still talk with some authority.

Not just because I come from the soldier-ruled kingdom of Bern, but because I had to join up with mercenaries quite a bit before I became a knight of Caelin. Now _that_ was cool, the Caelin army. Archers like castles; we have plenty of places to fire on the enemy and don't have to worry about inconvenient incoming lances. ...Unless Sain is trying to help out. I still haven't forgiven him for that.

But right now, I was with Lyndis' Legion again, and we had all joined up with Lord Eliwood on his journey to defeat Nergal. I was all for that –even without the Morphs and quintessence, the man is freaky as hell– and usually that sort of clarity of mind would have made sleeping easy. Not tonight.

So where was I? Oh, yeah. See, when mercenaries set up camp, there's probably a fire in the middle, some makeshift shelters if it's raining (or hailing with lightning, but I don't like to talk about that night), and a lot of snoring. (No one tells swords-for-hire not to snore.) Other than that, it's practically as silent in the camp as it is in the deep forest.

Armies, now, armies are a bit different, and with our numbers pushing forty, every man, woman and horse an elite veteran combatant, we definitely counted as an army. For one thing, with as many horses, pegasi, wyverns, as we had, not to mention Bartre, we were able to carry more than enough tents for every person and their supplies. A small village sprang up around us every evening, but that didn't mean that everyone was going to rest.

Heath, for one, seemed to sleep on his feet, preferring to spend most of the dark hours with Hyperion, watching for surprise attacks. Probably too many years of military service. And that new Swordmaster, Karel liked practicing at the sunset. And in the moonlight. ...Dawn, too. They're just the standard ones; lots of people are reason to be up on any given night. Fires are always burning, whetstones are always grinding along axe and sword edges.

I was lying on my back in the tent I shared with Lowen, Erk, and Dorcas. Between the long grass of the plains and a few good Pharaen blankets, it was pretty comfortable, but I don't think Pegasus feathers could have put me out. I was thinking of our brief skirmish that morning, when a handful of wyvern riders had intercepted us on our way through a valley to the Shrine of Seals.

They hadn't been strong, but they _had_ been smart, and struck at the part of our company least capable of defending itself. Rebecca would have been run through in a half-dozen seconds if not for Dart, who had leapt high enough to grab the drake's leg as it swooped low and then dragged the beast from the air. Pent and Louise, with their considerable advantages and experience, had been a deadly defence, but it was neither of those noble heroes who caught the most honour today.

Kent, taken as much off-guard as anyone else and always vulnerable to lances, had been trying and failing to hold off two of the beasties himself while our Lords and tactician organised formations. A lucky blow unhorsed him, the rider had landed to deal the killing blow... and Lady Lyn had taken up Rath's short bow and put two arrows in him before he could grin in victory.

No one had expected that. Lyndis has always said she's got as much skill with bows as Serra has with cooking, but that last-minute burst proved that she had gained some new talents through the power of Pent's Heaven Seal.

Afterwards, everyone had expressed their surprise and congratulated her, and I joined in just as heartily... but then, once the rush of battle had passed, I heard the other comments. Sain, of course, had congratulated Kent as well on getting Lady Lyndis' attention at last. Farina noted that it was lucky Kent had been the one in danger, or we might never have found out that Blade Lords were natural archers. Ever since the incident, Rath had been even stiffer and more formal around both Kent and Lyn, and somehow I didn't think it was because 'no one touches the bow but me'.

I knew what I had seen when Lyn took up that bow. That was one thing. More than that was my growing realisation that not only didn't I want the whole camp gossiping about the lady and her knight... no one had mentioned me. No one had even considered me. I've known her for about twenty hours less than either of the Caelin cavaliers, but I just _wasn't in the running_.

And I desperately wanted to be.

I got up eventually, some time after midnight, thinking that if I couldn't rest now, I might as well take a watch shift. General Lord Wallace can get some strange training ideas when he stays up for thirty hours straight, and far too many of them involve running five hundred laps (around what doesn't matter, for him). The night was as quietly alive as ever, and there were plenty of nocturnal creatures scurrying or flapping about, too.

I passed by Heath, as I expected, and saw Fiora in the distance, repairing her armor. Thankfully, Karel wasn't around, but I heard other sounds that suggested I was far from the only person awake. In particular, the clank of Hector's armor as he paced in his tent was deafening at close range.

On my way to the camp's edge, I heard the most familiar sound in the entire world – the _twang_ of a bowstring. Rebecca was one of our few soldiers who never stayed up very late, and made up for it by rising far too early. And if Lady Louise were awake now, I didn't think she'd be practicing.

Moving as silently as I could, I followed the quiet thrumming to a part of our camp near the central fire, which had been fuelled by a large tree nearby. That same tree was now being subjected to target practice, but I doubt it minded much– the main thing on my mind was that it was Lady Lyndis and her new bow I had heard after all.

Did I say I was moving silently? What a joke. Lyn fired a few more times (rather badly, I have to admit), then turned around and reminded me with a faint fire-lit grin that she was Sacaen, which meant she could just about hear which side a coin toss came down on.

"Um... hi," I said, and then realised that me starting a sentence with 'um' was a dead giveaway that something was on my mind.

"Well met, Wil, but if you're going to move silently, you should probably see to it that you're actually silent," she suggested. "Can I help you with something?"

_Yes. Definitely. You can put down that bow and hug me and let me tell you how I feel and then we can laugh about how misguided everyone else is to think that Kent could ever..._ "Not really. Just couldn't sleep," I said.

"As you can see, I know how you feel." She gestured at the tree, and the totally random spread of arrows over the target rings she had chalked onto the thick bark. "I don't know how I managed it this morning. I'm hitting the tree every time, which is better than ever before, but it's nothing like that moment when..."

"When 'it' fired," I said, and then realised I had. Lyn looked at me strangely. She might have been wondering what I was talking about, but with her face accented by a distantly glowing fire, my insides just about did a cartwheel while I tried to look knowledgeable. "The monks who perfected archery say that when a true master takes up the bow, he isn't the one who chooses to fire. There's another, deeper force, some kind of universal rhythm, that looses the arrow. So they say that 'it' fires."

Now she just looked sceptical. "...And you think that's what happened to me?"

"I don't know how much I believe in all their meditating and stuff, but I guess my best shots have always felt sort of... mystical." My face was turning a little red, I think, and we were too far from the fire for it to have been heat. "You think I'm being silly."

"No, I think you're right... somehow. I don't know what Sacaens say about archery; it was never my strong point. I just don't see what harmonious forces would find interesting about me."

"Why shouldn't anything be interested in you?" ...Ooh, that could have used some rewording, but it was the most vague I could come up with while still being sincere.

"What?" Lyn was giving me that look again, and if her hearing was good, now it felt like she could just about read my thoughts with those green-sapphire eyes. I tried to look blank, and she decided quickly enough that I hadn't really been thinking about what I had said. "If you're not busy, then do you think you could help me?"

"Help you?" I repeated. She picked her bow back up and looked at it as though she were sizing up an opponent. "Oh. ...If you want, sure, I'd be glad to." I walked closer and asked her to aim, but not fire. "Well, first off, you're holding the string too tightly, and you should move your right foot back a little more. Don't hook your fingers; apply just enough pressure to keep it from slipping away, and then draw, elbow straight out like this."

It was fiendish torture to help adjust her posture then– nudging her arm up just a little, trying to make her relax some muscles that were more tense than they should have been. I was sure that Sain would have had only too much fun helping any female in our camp with this kind of detail, but all I was aware of with my hand on her arm was that if I specialised in axes, I'd have been lucky to get away with even _one_ wrist intact.

"You're still gripping the string too much," I said, checking over Lyn's new stance. "Hold with the fingertips, nothing more." Without even thinking about it, I put my hand over hers and tried to pull it back slightly. "You're too tense, you can't be afraid to let go."

Before I even finished with 'go', the string flew from her hand and launched its arrow into the darkness. "I didn't mean to do that!" Lyn said quickly, muffled by the fingers she had clapped over her mouth a half-second after firing. But she hadn't accidentally slain one of our comrades; after a moment of trying to see through the shadows, I saw the new arrow quivering in the exact centre of the target.

"Wow," I said.

Lyn stared at the tree for a few more moments, getting her breathing under control, before she asked "Was that 'it' firing?" It was meant to be a joke, but she didn't try to hide all of her hopefulness, either.

"Sorry. I wasn't really watching," I admitted.

"Well, if 'it' didn't, then I'm getting a lot better. Shall we see if I can do it again?" I nodded and stepped back to see how much her stance had improved. Mostly Lyn remembered everything, but she still held the string like it was going trying to escape.

"You're doing it again," I noted. "Letting 'it' fire is all about being on the edge of losing control, but keeping your hold anyway until just the right moment." I was repeated my own lessons from memory now, while my every conscious thought was focused on not focusing on Lyn's hand under my palm as I adjusted her grip.

Lyn studied the target for a few seconds, then lowered her bow. "Is this even worth it? I'm best with a sword; if I start trying to evaluate the best weapons for a given situation it's like to complicate things more than anything else."

"That's what we've got a tactician for," I reminded her. "And if you weren't a natural archer, we'd... uh, well, we wouldn't have Kent with us right now, is what I mean."

"I suppose so." She sighed again and raised her bow – _fingers hooked around the string again_.

"_Are you enjoying this?!_" I shouted, and from the look on her face I could tell Lyn wondered if she had imagined it. "Are you trying to torture me, or am I so nonexistent that you can't even see what you're doing?!"

We stood there, perfect still except for the heaving breaths I was taking, trying to calm down again. I found myself staring into those eyes that spoke of wide oceans and ancient forests. Lyn looked like she was beginning to understand something. It was as though veil after veil was being lifted, revealing faces over and over: confusion, revelation, wonder, and revelation again.

"Oh, Mother Earth forgive me..." she breathed, eyes widening. "Wil, I didn't realise how you... this must have been going on for so long..."

"Not that long," I admitted, my voice still harder than usual. "Not that I knew it, at least."

"I'm sorry, Wil. If I had known, I never would have–"

"Never would have what? Lady Lyndis, I know you haven't done anything because you _wanted_ to hurt me. Don't patronise me now. I'll deal with being denied, I was just sick of not being _noticed_–"

Lyn just about leapt at me. Now that I think about it, it's good that I was bracing myself to be tackled; if I hadn't, I think my legs would have just about given away when she kissed me. The only idea I have of how long it lasted was the general opinion, when Lyn let go of me, that it hadn't been nearly long enough.

"That was..." I realised no language in Elibe could take less than an hour to describe my elation, confusion, and a few hundred other emotions, and gave up.

"Don't look at me," said Lyn, smiling – by Elimine, such a smile. "I just let go when 'it' told me to."

"But... you can't – Lady Lyndis, if you don't feel the way I do–"

"I do. I can't imagine how long I have, in some ways. I just never really realised that we _could_ be anything more than friends." ...If anything I said after that was incoherent, I blame it on the fact that the words _morethanfriendsmorethanfriendsmorethanfriends_ were repeating in my head on an eternal cycle.

"So... what now?" I managed.

Lyn almost blushed. "Well... I hate to do this to you, but I've just realised that I am absolutely exhausted."

"No, no, that's fine!" I insisted. "I mean, we're going to be travelling together for a long time yet. We can talk about... about things in the morning. Or afternoon. My schedule changes a lot these days, but mostly I'm free for, ah... sorry. Yeah. I'll let you go."

"Good night." She kissed me again, and I do not mean on the cheek. I watched her go, bow tucked under one arm, until she disappeared between the tents. Even without her, the night seemed more alive than ever. I felt like everyone was watching me, had been watching us, and approved of what they saw. I don't know how many eyes really were hiding in the darkness, but when I turned around, my arms stretched up towards the stars in sheer exultation, I saw an amused and friendly face by the fire.

Matthew, another permanent resident of the night, was toasting a few strips of bacon and grinning at me. "I think that counts as success," he remarked.

"I didn't know I was walking into a contest," I countered, dropping down beside him.

"Cut the thief some slack," Matthew protested. "Now, I've done you a favour, I think it's only fair you do me two in return."

"That's spy arithmetic, is it?" I asked. The bacon was exuding pure deliciousness in aromatic form.

"It is this time. You know how we in the sneaking business have potions to resist heat and cold, hunger... drowsiness, that sort of thing?" he asked, casually.

"I've heard," I agreed, my head tilted back to watch the supremely slow dance of the stars.

"And you know how I volunteered to cook dinner tonight?" he went on.

Slowly I turned back down to face Matthew as realisation dawned. "Are you saying you're the reason I can't sleep?"

"No, no, of course not," the thief replied. "Lady Lyndis is the reason. I'm just the guarantee." He pulled the bacon away from the embers, neatly cut it in half with a lightning-quick dagger slice, and offered part to me. "So. The second thing I'd like you to do is see to it that you don't freak out like that again unless it's absolutely necessary. Believe it or not, everyone here does know who you are – the spirit of unquenchable good humour. Any more outbursts and you could single-handedly crush morale."

I decided not to comment on whether or not I believed him. The bacon was as good as it had smelled. "I'll do my best. ...Wait, you said that was the second favour? What was the first?"

"Eating that," he answered, nodding at the toasting fork that had so recently been weighed down with a midnight snack. I had just enough time to start realising what he meant when I toppled backwards, throwns into the depths of sleep as easily as I had been kept out of them.

Matthew grinned again, then lifted him onto his shoulder and started off toward Wil's tent. "She may rely on her knights, Wil of Pherae, but she'll always believe in you more. Now, bed-time for Cupid. Tomorrow is going to be as busy a day as the Fates and I can make it."

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Letting 'it' fire isn't Wil's idea, it really is the concept behind Zen archery, which is said to have accomplished amazing feats, although if it manages to make the idea of the Wil/Lyn coupling any more popular on this site, that'll be a real first. If nothing else, review to tell me how original/crazy the whole idea is – no matter what, there's more reality to Wil and Lyn than meets the eye. And no, most of you shouldn't have any idea what I meant by that.


End file.
